


My Siren

by Yngvildr the Voracious (Yngvildr_the_Voracious)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, meicree week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yngvildr_the_Voracious/pseuds/Yngvildr%20the%20Voracious
Summary: The look of puzzlement on Mei’s face was cute. It brought in him the same kind of interrogation, though. What could she possibly be thinking of?





	My Siren

The look of puzzlement on Mei’s face was cute. It brought in him the same kind of interrogation, though. What could she possibly be thinking of? 

Gale winds in the Indian Ocean? Depression in Eastern Europe? Late spring in Numbani?

He took a deep breath and plunged a spoon in his bowl of cereals. She would tell him, in time. He just knew it. 

She did not in fact tell him directly. It was Hana Song who clued him in. The woman had called his private phone for this. Thinking of an emergency, he immediately answered of course. Instead, the question: _when did you two first meet?_

_“Oh?”  
_

He was prepared to start one of his tall tales of trains and damsels in distress needing a rescue. He was prepared to start with a romantic story made of plump lips, supple bosoms and an exceptionally handsome gunslinger falling head over heels for a cute scientist, but he stopped in his tracks because... For all his lies and greatly exaggerated stories... Jesse McCree couldn’t for the life of him remember how he actually met his delightful wife!

“Seriously? You can’t remember either? How is that even possible, you’ve been married for decades?!” Hana screamed in frustration at the other end of the line. 

McCree, who was pretty much not in the mood to get berated on the phone by a girl twenty years his junior, no matter how deadly she was in and out of her mechanized death machine, promptly assured the Korean woman that it mattered not, in fact, the most important was that Mei-Ling Zhou was the love of his life and that he would bless everyday in her company and not just the first. 

Kids these days... As if Jesse McCree would look a gift horse in the mouth... He was prepared to set it all aside, actually put his money where his mouth is. Call his snowflake and treat her nice and good. Maybe make her her favorite Mexican foods. What was this Vietnamese soup she liked called already?

When he went to bed next to Mei-Ling that night, he was still clawing at his brains internally, trying to remember how and when he first met the person he had said yes to, all those years ago.   
  


“Jesse.” he heard whisper. 

He kept his eyes firmly shut and evened out his breathing. 

“I’ve been sleeping with you for years, Jesse McCree, I know how to spot your natural sleep and your faked sleep.” Mei deadpanned. 

Jesse opened his eyes. He was startled to think of how she was as beautiful as the first day they met. How could he think that when he couldn’t remember?

Mei’s hand reached for his neck and he welcomed her scent and her softness. For a second, Jesse feared. He feared to remember a day she wasn’t there, with her fighting spirit, her support, her overall heart full to bursting with love. A day she wasn’t his. He’d rather remember her as of now. A constant comfortable weight on his heart. 

The hug they shared woke their respective aches in their bones. Mei reached and settled on Jesse’s chest, mindful to not obstruct his breathing and he gathered her in his arms, wondering if this wouldn’t be bad for her arthritis. 

“It’s ok not to remember.” Mei said aloud, not convincing anyone. “At least we’re together _now_.”

“What I told Hana.” he concurred. 

“Oh, that means we didn’t meet in a small town in the West, where you had to duel a rival suitor at high noon?” Mei teased, making her husband smile. 

“No, we definitely didn’t meet on a boat on Antartica.” Jesse told. 

“Yeah, me shivering, you looking thin as reed.” Mei added, her voice now soft. 

“It was cold... And here you were...” Jesse added, a frown marring his features. 

“You’d have drowned. Your prosthetic...” Mei keened. “I didn’t know what to do. I had just woken up from cryo, all alone... How were you even there...” she wondered, her amazement faked, threaded with the chill of terror that had coursed through her veins.

“First human you see waking up and yet you still throw a rope. Get a suit and a mask to dive in when you see me struggling to get it... My siren...” Jesse croaks, feeling the cold water seeping in every layer of cloth, his useless flesh hands fumbling with the latches of his armored breastplate, his breath suddenly labored. 

They fell asleep clutching at each other to ward off the sudden chill taking them. 

The look of puzzlement on Mei’s face was cute. It brought in him the same kind of interrogation, though. What could she possibly be thinking of? 

Jesse McCree pulled out his tablet, well, there was a blizzard scheduled to hit New York in a few hours: that solved it. He sat up, cleaned up the remains of his cereals and kissed his wife on the temple. 

“Have a nice day, my siren.” he chuckled in her ear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry


End file.
